


Will I Know You Then?

by cosmotronic



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Angry Sex, Angst, Dubious Consent, F/F, Loving Sex, Marking, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-03
Updated: 2016-09-03
Packaged: 2018-08-12 19:41:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7946668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosmotronic/pseuds/cosmotronic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They built her from the inside out; Ashley just needs to know Shepard is real.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Will I Know You Then?

**Author's Note:**

> A word of **warning** : the first part of this story could be read as dubious consent. Both partners are willing participants, but one of them would definitely _not_ have stopped if the other had said no. I hope the story makes clear it is just angry, messed up sex, but the warning stands.
> 
> If you're comfortable with that, read on and enjoy. Comment if you want, feedback is appreciated.

“Hey, Ash.”

Silence. Ashley stood looking out the observation window of the starboard lounge, statue-still and brooding.

Shepard considered beating a retreat. Ship talk had said Ashley was upset and she had thought to show a familiar face, maybe share a drink or two with her friend. Her lover, in another life. But Ashley didn't seem upset, she seemed tense. Wired and dangerous. Shepard ignored her survival instinct and moved to stand next to Ashley. She joined her in gazing out at the looming Citadel, the neon signs and seedy glow of the lower wards a lively frame to the bleak atmosphere of the lounge. She waited.

Eventually, a warning rolled off Ashley's tongue, “What do you want, Shepard?”

“Just enjoying the view,” Shepard began breezily, then softened her tone at Ashley's unbelieving snort, “and checking in on a friend.”

Ashley didn't reply for a long moment, then muttered, “I'm not really good company right now.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Bitter, “About us, you mean.”

“If that's what you want...” Shepard was hesitant. Their encounter had reached emotional consequence more rapidly than she had anticipated. She knew they would have to discuss their relationship at some point, but hadn't expected to be led there so quickly. Ashley had been waiting for Shepard to come to her tonight, she realised. But Ashley didn't seem conciliatory or even resigned. There was an air of quiet rage about her.

“No, I don't want to fucking talk about it. Us. Anything. You can't just smile and kiss it better, Shepard!” Ashley spat the last, simmering anger readily coming to full boil, “Not after all that's happened. Don't you see everything that's changed?”

“Of course things are different,” Shepard grasped at the conversation, threads pulling out of her reach, “I just want you to know... I'll be here when you need me.”

“And you keep doing that. Trying to convince me you are the same. The great Shepard, the hero. You can't control it all the time.”

Shepard spoke soft and small, turning to face her, “I'm not trying to control you, Ash.”

Ashley shook her head, “Not me. It. You. You don't see it. The act. You still don't see whose side you are on.”

There it was. After everything, it still came back to trust. After everything, Ashley still believed she was... what? Under Cerberus control? A pawn of the Illusive Man? Surely not a willing traitor? Shepard's mouth worked soundlessly, trying and failing to phrase all the things that had remained unsaid since Horizon. What few words would undo long months of assumed betrayal?

Four words that could, “I love you, Ash.”

Ashley's next knife bit deep, “I can't believe you.”

A cracked whisper, “Please...”

One more stab to Shepard's heart, “I don't know who you are any more.”

Shepard was shocked, rooted, devastated. It was true that working with Cerberus, fighting the Collectors and enduring the horrors of the Reaper War had hardened her, honed her into a sharper blade than the wild, reckless soldier Ashley had fallen for a lifetime ago... but she was still _Shepard_. She thought Ashley had figured that out, if not on Mars then certainly during Udina's little coup. She felt ire swelling in her chest, the punch of a small betrayal.

“You held a gun on me, Ash. You looked into my eyes and made a call. You saw me then, why can't you believe it?” Shepard's distemper grew as she advanced on Ashley, so close she could feel the hot breath between them, “Why did you even come aboard if you don't trust me? Why not just blow my head off in front of the council and be done with it?”

“Because... because... ngh!” Ashley's infuriate, inarticulate reply became an animalistic grunt as she grabbed Shepard's face and pushed their mouths together, hard enough to bruise. Ashley's tongue was insistent, pressing for entry and Shepard relented, allowing Ashley to lead their dance. She gave and Ashley took; if Ashley needed to take everything Shepard was to sooth her soul then she would let her.

Ashley was a few centimetres taller than Shepard and her solid musculature gave her the weight advantage. Shepard could still have taken her easily, her own compact frame all coiled power, but this was a battle she didn't need to win. She gave an increment and Ashley instantly took an inch, walking Shepard back a few steps, lips and tongues still duelling. Her teeth nicked Shepard's lower lip, tugging. Oxygen was neglected as she pushed her body against Shepard from breast to thigh, hips grinding.

Shepard let out a muffled moan and Ashley immediately pulled back, contempt clear in her expression. Shepard swayed forward involuntarily, panting heavily, her abused mouth bereft and hanging open.

Ashley dodged the attempt to reconnect their kiss, “You don't get to control this, Shepard.”

Shepard shot a burning, daring glare and Ashley looked away. Shepard saw a flicker of torment before being forced around to face the other direction. There was a disconnect this way, emotional provocation made more difficult. Ashley ground against Shepard's rear, pushing her forward against the large observation window. Shepard braced her arms and tossed her head over her shoulder to hiss, “Waiting for an order, Lieutenant Commander?”

The words were delivered as a taunt and Ashley wasted no time, roughly pulling Shepard's fatigue pants down below the swell of her behind and working one hand between her legs. Long fingers pulled through her folds, the stirrings of lust evident in the slight dampness there. It wasn't much and Shepard groaned as Ashley slid two fingers into her, taking her to the knuckle with no preamble or preparation.

“Don't take your orders any more, Shepard,” Ashley withdrew and pushed immediately back in, hard and fast, “I'm a Spectre now. Your match.”

Shepard pushed back, fucking herself on Ashley's fingers, encouraging her relentless pace. She watched their reflections in the window, her own mouth hanging open and body jerking with their movements. Ashley's face was fierce, twisted with conflicted passions as she tunnelled her anger into the sharp jabs of her arm. Beyond, Shepard could see the close skyline of the Citadel wards. Anyone could have looked out right now at the docked Normandy and seen the great Commander Shepard writhing like a whore at the hands of her former subordinate. A sudden wetness gathered at the thought, making the slide easier, slicker. Her clit was straining, untouched, ignored as Ashley added another finger and leaned forward into Shepard's body, thrusting hard.

Ashley's fury was intoxicating as she growled into Shepard's ear, “Don't. Don't pretend you're enjoying this, Shepard.”

A fourth finger soon joined the assault and Shepard gasped through the burning stretch, the delicious pain. She would be sore afterwards, aching... alive. Her orgasm hit unexpectedly, a disrupter shot to her core. Like the rest of their encounter it was intense and violent. Her legs shook and her arms buckled, Ashley's powerful body crushing her to the window.

“Ash,” she groaned into the glass, “missed you...”

As her neurones stopped their random sparking and her body returned to normal function Shepard felt Ashley's weight pressed against her back. Experience reminded her it should have been a warm, comforting weight, but something was wrong. Small quakes racked Ashley's body as she sobbed quietly into the back of Shepard's neck.

Shepard turned, Ashley's hand dropping limply from between her legs as she straightened. The other woman's face was tear-streaked and red, misery warring with the shock of her actions. Shepard's walls crumbled and she gathered Ashley into her arms, bringing her head down to rest on her shoulder, stroking her hair. She felt Ashley wrap around her, hands grasping her tight. They stood like that for a long time until the tremors eased.

A small, muffled, “Sorry.”

“Sssh, it's okay, Ash... let it out.”

Ashley didn't respond right away, though she clutched Shepard tighter as if fearing she would disappear into the ether.

Quietly, a statement, “You were dead, Shepard.”

“Yeah, but I got better,” Shepard kicked herself. Joking helped her deal with the immutable fact of her own death, but Ashley had lived with her grief for two years. She didn't need to hear flippant remarks.

“I mourned you, I tried to move on...”

“I know. I'm sorry, Ash. I never wanted to hurt you.”

Ashley sniffled and relaxed her hold, stepping back to look at Shepard fully, “When I saw you on Horizon, I couldn't believe you were really there. I wouldn't accept that the rumours were true. I was so angry with you for leaving. I was angry with myself for not letting go, with God for taking you in the first place. When you came back I should have welcomed you as a miracle. Instead I pushed you away.”

“You didn't want to get hurt again.”

Ashley started to pace and Shepard could see anxiety building again as she tried to explain, “Yes! No! I mean, I told Delan you were a god and... dammit, Shepard, that's what I'd built you into! You weren't like that, standing there like nothing had changed. I convinced myself you were someone else, a Cerberus trick, a traitor, a... memory.”

Confused, “A memory?”

Ashley stopped, sadness sapping her nervous energy and she hung her head, “A ghost.”

Shepard's heart broke. She could never really understand what Ashley had gone through in the years following her death. Had Shepard been a phantom haunting her all that time, a shade holding her back? No, Ashley was stronger than that. She would have found a way to survive, to live, even love again. She had started to build her future... until Shepard had showed up on Horizon and torn her tender soul to bloody shreds.

Shepard cast about, gathering her own shattered fragments. She determined to remove her revenant's cowl, to prove to Ashley she was real and ready to fight for her. She pushed her fatigues and underwear the rest of the way down, kicking them off after removing her boots. Hooking her fingers under the edge of her shirt she pulled it off in one swift motion, her dog tags clinking together.

Naked, Shepard stepped close to Ashley and kissed her gently, giving her the opportunity to pull away. She didn't retreat, but gave no response either.

Shepard tried a different tactic, “Ashley, look at me.”

Shepard could see Ashley's eyes roaming haphazardly over her form, uncertainty furrowing her features as her mind tried to reconcile a ghost with the vision before her. Shepard knew she looked different than before; old blemishes repaired by her resurrection, a new web of scores and scratches filling in the gaps. She hadn't really considered how that might affect her one-time lover. She grasped Ashley's hands and placed them on her own bare chest, palms flat against her.

“I'm in here, Ash.”

A flicker of a smile alighted on Ashley's tired features and her tension began to visibly ease as she felt Shepard's rapid heartbeat. After several moments she started to map the smooth skin, fingertips seeking, lingering in select places. Shepard knew what Ashley was looking for. From a mass of burnt flesh and tubes Cerberus had rebuilt her body, meshing her bones with metal, enhancing her muscles with cybernetics and papering newly-grown skin over the cracks. Small lines marked her face and torso, surgically precise proof of her early awakening. These were the scars of life, but not of a life lived. Ashley was searching for the evidence of her Shepard.

The gash above her hip from the final fight against Saren, gone. The energy blast had scorched right through her armour and sent her flying, landing heavily and almost blacking out. She had struggled to her feet, the edges of her vision grey with pain before the medigel circuits in her suit could apply their numbing dose. They had emerged victorious that day, her and Ashley and Garrus, but the wound – along with a nasty knock from a falling structural support – had put the saviour of the Citadel on her back for nearly a week.

The burn on her arm from a blindly-tossed grenade, gone. Shepard had been fighting a close quarters retreat in a bunker on a rocky moon, hunkering down behind a stack of crates as pirates sprayed the air with gunfire and taunts. Shepard was outnumbered, outgunned and pissed off. When she saw a gap she took it, recklessly lobbing an incendiary charge across the barricade and launching herself at the exit door. She got a little cooked round the edges but she made it out alive. Though, the smell of fried bacon made her nauseated to this day.

The knife slash on her right thigh from when she was just eighteen, gone. Shepard had been on the pull, flirting heavily with a young asari while on shore leave. Aliens were still an exotic sight to most humans and Shepard had taken offence at the lewd comments aimed at her companion. Shepard wasn't defending her date's honour so much as trying to get into her pants, but the result had been the same. The bar brawl remained legend among Alliance recruits for years. Anderson had been there, seen a spark in the brash young cadet and only his words to the Academy brass had saved her from expulsion. Shepard had spent the next fifteen years trying to prove him right by being the best damn soldier she could be.

The angry red mark that ran jagged from the underside of her left breast across her stomach and abdomen, gone. The wound was once her closest call, a thresher maw attack on Akuze and a subsequent scramble for survival. Or it was – depending who you believed – a memento gained during Shepard's triumphant victory in the Skyllian Blitz. Or an aching reminder of a vicious, bloody retaliation against the Batarians on Torfan. Shepard had heard all the stories, the legends, powerless to stop them growing taller with each telling. Ashley had asked for the truth as they lay together one night. She had listened intently to Shepard then tenderly kissed her once, quietly thanking her. They never spoke of it again.

Ashley stopped her cartography suddenly, fingertips running over one shoulder, searching. She raised her head to Shepard, anguish shining in her eyes. _Oh._

Ashley had given her that one. She had bitten her there, sunk her teeth down hard into the flesh above her collarbone during a particularly spectacular orgasm en route to Ilos. Ashley had been embarrassed afterwards, but Shepard had touched the red mark gingerly and smiled. She had let it heal on it's own, wearing the small crescent as a badge of honour beneath her armour during the fight for the Citadel and beyond. Cerberus had taken all her scars from her, but she felt this loss the most keenly; the mark of Ashley's promise scrubbed out.

Shepard moved her own fingers to an imperfection on her side. This was newer, courtesy of a Collector weapon. It felt odd, wrong in the context of Ashley's dejected exploration. A hurried plagiarism of a lifelong masterwork. But what if - just maybe - it was supposed to mark the start of a new chapter? Shepard could expect a few more knocks along her journey and who was she to cheapen their meaning? And if – _when_ – they defeated the Reapers she could finally stop getting shot at and then, perhaps, she could beg a more traditional promise from Ashley.

If Ashley wanted her. Shepard had to try, “Let's start again, Ash.”

With a long exhale, Ashley nodded, though Shepard noticed her hands never stopped tracing her skin. Still checking, unconsciously testing her solidity.

Shepard could show her how real she was. She undressed Ashley slowly, peeling her uniform away. She planted kisses and drew light caresses on the exposed skin, charting the topography of her body in a mirror of Ashley's earlier moves.

She paused briefly at Ashley's own battle scar, a slash of pink down her left side from Virmire. Saren again. Shepard knew Ashley kept it as a reminder, her own personal memorial. She had raged at Shepard after that mission, begged her Commander to tell her why she had saved the grunt and not the officer? Shepard had made the right call, the nuke had to be the priority. It had taken a long time to assuage Ashley's guilt over that mission. Her own guilt was still a bloody mark on the annals of her conscience.

Ashley's touch on her cheek brought her back. She smiled down at Shepard and for the first time since the the storm of their argument her eyes shone with something other than sadness. Together they crossed the small distance to the couch, Shepard guiding Ashley's backward motions before pushing her gently to the seat.

Some of Ashley's fire was returning, the first kindlings of desire smoking in her eyes, burning her face. She spread her legs and Shepard's knees crumpled. She dropped before her lover, resting her hands on the tops of her thighs, squeezing, enjoying the firm muscle in her grip as she stared at Ashley's offering.

A plea, “Show me, Shepard.”

Her first touch was an intimate whisper, an antithesis to Ashley's earlier, primal carnality. Shepard parted Ashley's folds, teasing flesh to either side of her clit. She briefly brushed her fingers over the swelling bud, noting with satisfaction Ashley's full-body shudder. She had always been a sensitive one. Moving to the opening below she circled it with the tip of her index finger, teasing wetness from within to massage into the outer flesh and earning a throaty moan of desire.

Shepard rested one palm on Ashley's abdomen, the slight pressure steadying her hips as she deliberately eased two fingers in, tortuously slow. Shepard could feel the heat gripping her, stretching about her. She didn't know if there had been anyone for Ashley in the years of their separation, but the tightness around her fingers suggested she had restricted at least some of her bedroom activities. Shepard felt a small swell of possessiveness in her chest. She leant down to take Ashley's clit in her mouth, sucking gently then sneaking her tongue out to tease the peeking tip, pleased to be rewarded with a rush of slick arousal around her fingers. She pumped her hand with greater speed, in and out, twisting her wrist slightly on the down-stroke to add a rocking sensation to the thrust.

Ashley's hips began to move to Shepard's rhythm. Her breathing deepened and small, gasping moans escaped her lips. Her hands clawed at the fabric of the couch as she pressed into the expert touch. Shepard kept her hand movements firm and precise, drawing Ashley intolerably slowly yet inexorably towards her edge. Her mouth was less orderly, kissing and nipping the soft folds, tasting sweetness as she went, tongue flicking Ashley's clit only occasionally but provoking a deeper moan from her lover whenever it did.

Ashley had to be close. Shepard stilled her hand, buried deep. She crooked her fingers forward and started to rub the clutching velvet intently, finding the right spot almost instantly. Ashley's body stiffened into a perfect arch, hips raised off the couch in a desperate attempt to get more of Shepard within her, legs shaking. Shepard's fingertips continued to rub as she moved to suck hard on Ashley's clit.

The effect was extraordinary. Contractions rippled about Shepard's fingers and wetness poured into her palm, covering her to the wrist. Shepard quickly removed her hand so she could lap at the flowing essence. She dipped her tongue inside, drawing as much moisture as she could into her mouth, enjoying the taste while she worked to extend Ashley's orgasm.

Ecstatic moans and cries of passion devolved into sobs and utterances of relief as Ashley let three years of emotional wreckage pour from her. Amidst the benedictions and invocations, Shepard heard Ashley murmur her name, prayer-soft. Not 'Shepard', her _name_. Shepard could have died again in that moment and been happy.

“Ashley...” she breathed into her lover's core.

Suddenly Ashley's hands were in her hair, tugging her up and pulling their faces close. Shepard's lips and chin were wet with come but Ashley didn't seem to mind as she pressed their mouths together in a sloppy kiss. The position was awkward and Ashley soon moved to lie fully on the couch, drawing Shepard down on top of her.

A sheen of sweat glued them close as they fit together, entwined. Their kisses were tender at first. Ashley sucked at Shepard's lower lip, her tongue bathing the spot she had bitten earlier. Soon they began to move with more fervour, their bodies taking up a timeless dance. Their breasts connected, erect nipples rubbing together. Hands roamed over muscular flesh, grasping, groping. Their breaths became an uncontrolled panting, their need becoming ever more ardent.

Ashley hooked her thigh over Shepard's hip, rocking into her, motive evident. Shepard was leaking arousal, painting Ashley's skin and her own, desperate for more contact. She had to shift down Ashley's body slightly to find the right angle, bringing her own leg up to open their cores to each other. The first touch of Ashley against her was heaven. She dragged her folds through the heat, finding a rhythm, that perfect tempo.

Shepard bent her head and started to work Ashley's breasts, sucking and nipping her nipples as their hips moved in time, clit against clit. Ashley's mouth was otherwise occupied, moaning louder as the wet slide of Shepard's centre and her busy lips drove her desire to peak. Her nails raked Shepard's back, leaving bloody welts as she clawed to reach the broken soul beneath the too-perfect skin. Shepard gloried in the sting as Ashley marked her.

Shepard lifted her head to shout her pleasure and began to grind down with singular purpose, their rhythm lost. Ashley's breath hitched and she rubbed frantically against Shepard, seeking, and then her hips bucked violently. As she crested her own summit, Shepard felt the force of Ashley's orgasm gush against her, around her, inside her. She was swept into the chasm, her body shuddering, her core rippling, her essence pouring out about them.

Through the maelstrom Shepard felt a sharp tug at the junction of her neck and shoulder. Ashley's teeth were a brand, her burning breath blasting her claim into the broken skin. Shepard's instinct took over and she bit down hard in reply, marking the flesh below Ashley's collarbone.

The lovers rode out the remaining seisms together, each looking intensely into the other's eyes. As the aftershocks faded, Shepard saw the rapture encroach on Ashley's face. Ashley was finally seeing her, really seeing her for the first time since her rebirth. Shepard wasn't so naive as to think their lovemaking had healed all wounds. Ashley was battling a three-headed demon and Shepard herself was more broken than she could admit. There were lots of words to say, fresh tears to shed and anger to bear. But Shepard allowed herself to hope, that whatever was to come she and Ashley would face it, together.

**Author's Note:**

> This actually started life as two separate story ideas, one of which was mainly dialogue and angst, the other more of an exploratory character piece. I decided to rewrite the two scenes as one encounter to give it a bit more structure and a glimmer of a happy ending.


End file.
